


Finelines

by JoPoGirlsKickAss



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brother-Sister Relationships, F/M, Reunion, Stark Family Reunion(s) (ASoIaF), Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 12:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18637945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoPoGirlsKickAss/pseuds/JoPoGirlsKickAss
Summary: Arya Stark is ready to be reunited with what remains of the family she thought long dead. But the emotional roller coster of seeing her family and a man she once offered a home to cracks her mask down the middle and all her training slips away in those moments.





	Finelines

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty much follows the books, just in modern setting. When Arya goes to Bravos she joins the military only to be recruited by what was thought to be a Bravossi military myth, the Faceless Men.  
> Cheers!

Arya watched as the familiar castle came into view as they drove, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she took a deep shuddering breath trying to cool her nerves. The towering stonewalls and wrought iron gate grew in size as they approached. The car slowed as the posted guards stepped out of their building.

One of the men in the brown and grey uniform approached the driver window, and the driver lowered the glass.

“State your business.”

The driver glanced to Arya in the rearview mirror, but before she could answer another voice cut in.

“I’m expecting them Morgan,” the voice was rough but warm and Arya watched as Ser Davos waved the younger man off. The older man was weathered and tough in appearance and everything Arya had expected. He walked around the side of the car and opened the door across from her, sliding into the seat. Air whistled through Davos teeth as he took in her appearance. “You look just like Lady Lyanna, my Lady.”

Arya lifted a brow, “You knew my aunt? And it’s Arya.”

“Aye, saw her at Tourney before she passed. You have her beauty.”

Arya’s reply fell on her lips as the castles towers shadowed the vehicle, and she hardly noticed as Davos pulled out his phone and sent off a quick message. They passed through the inner gate and Arya’s breath left her lungs at the sight of the castle’s long curved drive and simple but stunning stone and wooden entrance.

“It will be alright my Lady—Arya” Davos corrected at her pointed glance, “Your family misses you.”

Arya found herself unable to respond with her usual wit and instead sat in silence as the car pulled to a stop.

The two guards on either side of the entrance opened the large, ornate wooden doors and Arya watched through the tinted windows as a handful of people emerged. Arya let out a strangled sound as she watched what was left of her family descend the stairs.

She hardly noticed as the driver exited and began pulling her duffle bag from the boot of the vehicle.

She watched as tall and beautiful Sansa wheeled a pale, thin, and much older looking Bran down the ramp that sloped alongside the few stairs. Sansa was laughing lightly at something Bran had said. Then she saw Theon and Jon beside him and didn’t dare blink in fear of it all being a dream. Arya’s eyes raked over his figure trying to memorize the changes, taller, broader, longer hair, a new scar, the hardness in the grey eyes—

Davos cleared his throat disrupting Arya’s attention, “I believe the view is better without the filtered light, come my lady.” Davos opened his door and stood looking over the top of the door.

“Ser Davos, we are here as you requested despite the vagueness of said request, what is this surprise you have for us?” Sansa’s voice was so much stronger than it used to be all those years ago, it was less airy and feathery than Arya remembered, there was much of Catelyn Stark in the voice, a maturity and wisdom to it, but it was still very much Sansa.

Davos bowed his head, “If my lady would be willing to wait a moment more…” Davos ducked his head back down and looked to Arya expectantly. “All will be well my Lady,” he whispered holding his hand out to her.

Arya swallowed heavily. She flattened her hands against the desert cameo and medals pressing out the nonexistent wrinkles of the already pressed uniform; she reached up for her beret securing it around her head. Exhaling Arya grabbed her military pack in one hand and slid across the leather bench reaching for Ser Davos’ hand with the other.

The weathered fingers wrapped lightly around hers and the knight straightened as he helped her exit the vehicle. Arya kept her eyes to the ground as the snow crunched crisply under the weight of her boots, a sound she didn’t remember missing until it hit her ears. It wasn’t until the soft thud of Ser Davos closing the door that Arya rolled back her shoulders and lifted her chin from the snow covered drive.

Ser Davos had been correct, the view without the filter of the window was a million times better than Arya could have thought, but also a million times more stressful. Arya struggled to remember her training, as she looked upon her siblings, struggled to control her face, her emotions, to remember to breathe.

The group of before her, and even those milling about, stopped and the sound was sucked from the world as Arya did her best to memorize every single detail of this moment, from Sansa’s wide eyes, to Bran’s look of absolute relief, to Theon’s slackened jaw, and to the hard drawn line of Jon’s brow. Arya noted the color of their clothing, they way the breeze swept their hair, how the falling snow clung to their coats, how their breath fogged the air for a single moment before being swept away, how the low light brought out the hard and angular Stark and Tully features.

Sansa was the first to move and Arya’s grey eyes snapped to her. Her sister’s steps were slow and deliberate, and she had steeled her gaze and Arya could see the Tully blue analyzing every inch of her face, looking for something, anything that might betray Arya as not who she appeared.

Sansa halted just out of arms reach, Arya met the blue eyes with searching determination. She saw years of pain in the Tully blue and wisdom beyond the twenty-three years, and she wondered if Sansa was able to look past her mask and see something similar.

And then Sansa’s arms were wrapped around her and Arya took no time in returning the embrace, she buried her face in her sister’s neck and hugged tightly, praying to all of the gods to let this moment continue weather a dream or not.

Sansa eventually pulled away, tears glistening in her eyes and staining her cheeks. Sansa swallowed a sob and attempted to speak, but Arya silenced her by drawing her sister’s head down and pressing their foreheads together. “Words can wait.”

Sansa nodded against her and she wrapped her arms around Arya once more, a gesture which Arya happily returned.

Sansa pulled away once more, she took a step back holding Arya’s hands in her own, before letting go and looking over her shoulder. Arya followed her gaze and locked eyes with the Stark grey. “Go.” Sansa said giving Arya a soft shove.

Arya caught herself easily, but took a hesitant step forward.

Jon took two steps forward as well.

A tear fell from the grey eyes and that was all Arya needed. She dropped the pack to the ground and leapt forward as Jon met her, he scooped her up as she flung herself into his arms and he lifted her off her feet swinging her around as he used to do when they were children.

Arya’s training did nothing against the tears that welled and spilled over as she buried her head in her brother’s shoulder breathing in the scent that was just Jon. She could feel his shoulders quaking against her own as they cried into each other. “I thought you were dead,” it was muffled, Jon choked on the words as they left his lips, his tears staining them with eleven years of grief.

Arya hugged her brother tighter using all of her strength to keep him in her arms and she felt him do the same. Arya cried into the fur trim of his coat. It was real, this was all real; the crisp pine and winter smell of Jon was too real, the feel of him in her arms, the snow blindness, and fogging of her hitched breath was more than her dreams had ever been able to create. And the reality of it all came crashing down around Arya causing her tears to fall faster.

Jon had stopped spinning at some point, but still held her off the ground unwilling to let her go and Arya had no complaints. Arya was unsure how long they held onto one another, but it didn’t feel like enough when she loosened her grip and Jon lowered her to the ground. Jon bit the tip of his glove and ripped it off, spitting it to the ground between them, he reached out for her face tentatively. He held his breath as he reached forward, his hand stilling near her cheek, his eyes ghosting over her scar. Arya tilted her head pressing her face into his palm, and she smile sadly, “It’s real, this has to be real.”

Jon’s thumb wiped at her tears, “It had better be.” Jon drew her into another bone crushing hug, “I can’t lose you again.”

Arya shifted away after a moment and knew her determination shone though as she met his gaze, “I will bring the gods down one by one, bleeding them into our crops if they take this away from me. I have waited too long.”

Jon’s chuckle was rough, heavy, and all Jon, and it made tears well again in Arya’s eyes, but she was able to keep them at bay.

“Gods I’ve missed you.” Jon dropped his forehead to her as she had done to Sansa, “I—I never thought I would see you again.”

Arya felt a presence next to her and turned her head to see Ghost sniffing at the air not two feet from her. Ghost lifted his lips at her and Jon pulled away, but before Jon could speak to the direwolf Arya launched herself into the white fur despite the growl.

The growl stopped the moment Arya’s hands buried themselves into the thick fur, Arya pushed her face deep into the white coat, “Thank you.” Arya pulled away and the direwolf lowered his head to peer into her grey eyes, Arya placed her hands on either side of his face and pressed her forehead to his, “Thank you for protecting him, for keeping him safe.” The direwolf pulled back and licked at the few more tears that fell.

“Is that Needle?”

Arya, turned to her brother and grinned, pulling the sword from her belt. “Yes.”

Jon held the sword, running a hand down the blade, “You’ve used it.”

Arya hid the darkness away as she answered, but when she met Jon’s eye’s she knew he saw through her mask, as he’d always been able to. “Yes, many times.”

Jon seemed to finally take in her uniform, “You’re apart of the Braavos Special Forces,” Jon’s eyes flitted over her before meeting her gaze once more, “No.. you’re a Faceless Man, the untraceable assassins.”

“I didn’t think you believed in tall tales.”

Without warning Jon picked her up and swung her in a circle once more before putting her down, Arya laughed, truly laughed, for the first time in what felt like years, the sound foreign even to her own ears.

“Come, its Bran’s turn.”

Arya followed as Jon tugged her forward to Bran who sat in his wheelchair watching as they approached. Arya stepped past Jon and wrapped her arms around Bran, she felt him return the hug with more strength than she expected.

“I always knew you were alive, you’re too stubborn to die.”

Arya laughed and glance over her shoulder to her older brother, “Jon as well.”

Bran grinned, “Twins separated by six years.”

Arya felt a smile split her face as Sansa and Jon both laughed at their father’s old words. Moving her eyes away from her sibling Arya’s gaze shifted to Theon and her greeting died on her lips as her eyes fell to the figure she hadn’t noticed before.

The distance between them closed with three long strides and before he could react Arya pulled her fist back and struck him with all her might. His head snapped back and he stumbled, falling to the ground as he attempted to catch himself, “You stupid bull!” She spat.

“Arya!” Jon called.

Arya strode past him into the open doors of the castle before she was tempted to hit him again.

“Arya!” She could hear the scrambled footfalls, “Arya!”

Whipping around Arya turned and glared as the large bull of a person raced through the doors to catch her. “What?!”

He caught himself just before crashing into her, having not expected her to turn back. The storm blue eyes searched her face the same way Sansa’s had, and Jon’s, but there was also something more. There was hope, confusion, disbelief, and something that glowed heavily, brightening the blues with an intensity Arya wasn’t comfortable with.

“Arya.”

Arya didn’t move, staring him down. She let her angry show, her hatred, her pain. She let it all through her mask, forcing him to see what he’d done to her.

The blue eyes shifted and pain and regret read loudly, and Arya both enjoyed and hated the acknowledgment.

As the blue eye bore into her, Arya felt her eyes moisten again. She bit the inside of her cheek attempting to prevent the tears from falling, to will them away. But it was too late, he could see them and his eyes responded by growing darker with grief.

“I—I… I’m so sorry,” He whispered.

Arya laughed hollowly because it was that or let the tears start to fall. She swallowed thickly, “I want to hate you—so much.”

He visibly flinched as if she’d struck him again. “I deserve it.”

Arya tilted her chin in defiance and blinked; she would not shed a tear for this stupid bull. “You do.”

“I thought you were… I thought you’d died…”

“Might as well have been for how you threw me away,” Arya bit out, her words fierce and quiet—angry, pained.

He flinched again and finally broke eye contact. Arya watched his emotions roll over his face seeming to settle on self-loathing and misery.

“I want to hate you so much,” she repeated, chin still held aloft attempting to stare him down despite the gaping height difference.

The blue eyes snapped to hers, realization and hope sinking into their depths, “Why can’t you?” He asked quietly, his voice rough, raw.

Tears pricked again, and inside Arya raged at her own weakness, “Because you may not see me as family, but I still consider you part of my pack Gendry!”

“M’lady,” It was quiet, filled with grief and what broke her.

Fast as lightening she reached for his face and yanked him down to her, melding her lips to his.

It took one.. two.. three seconds before he responded, his arms encircling her and crushing her to his large frame, craning his neck to get a better angle.

Arya kissed him roughly, holding nothing back as she poured herself into that kiss. She bit his lip hard, tugging on it between her teeth, her hands gripping his face and neck.

She pulled back to see the striking blue; they searched her, looking for her regret. “Arya.. I—”

Arya took a small step back and his eyes flitted across her face with worry, his words caught in his throat at the rejection, but Arya absolved that by launching herself upwards. His eyes widened, but he caught her the way she knew he would, his hands gripping the back of her legs as she wrapped them around his waist.

With her legs secure at his waist Arya was now above him and able to yank his face towards hers as she sealed her lips against his again.

Arya kissed him with the fierceness and passion she’d always carried into any task, she bruised her lips against his, her hands on either side of his face keeping him right where she wanted.

“Arya!”

Arya growled into Gendry’s mouth as he tried to pull away. She bit his lower lip hard and he yanked back, “Fuck! Arya!” he hissed pressing his tongue into his lip and running it along its edge.

Arya felt desire crash through her body in an intense wave and she crushed her lips to his once more, this time leaving most of her roughness behind and caressing his lower lip with a tenderness she surprised herself with. She smirked against his lip, realizing this is what it meant to 'kiss it better.'

“ARYA!”

This time Gendry pulled away without injury and drew his brow together in a pained expression.

Arya gave a quick nip to his lower lip, “I’ll protect you,” she whispered. Straightening she peered over Gendry’s head towards the open doors where her siblings, Theon, Ser Davos, and other members of the staff stood. She lifted an eyebrow, “Yes?”

The look on Jon’s face brought out a bark of laughter from Arya.

“Wh—what.. What is this?! You know Gendry?!”

Arya felt Gendry shift and she tightened her legs around his waist and glanced down at him and growled quietly, “Don’t you dare put me down.”

Gendry opened his mouth to retort but she ignored him and turned back to her brother. “Yes, we have quite the history. If that is all, we were just getting reacquainted, and still have so much to catch up on. I’ll see you at dinner?”

Jon stood gaping at her like a fish, Theon was smirking, Sansa hadn’t seemed to have made up her mind about her feelings regarding the situation, and Bran grinned, “You room hasn’t been touched, and dinner is at six.”

Arya flashed her brother a smile, and then looked to Gendry, “You heard the man.”

“Arya..”

Ayra leaned down, and gently grabbed his earlobe between her teeth, she pulled lightly allowing the flesh to slip between her teeth and felt Gendry shudder beneath her, “Your Lady commands it.” Arya kissed him hard once more before pulling away and loosening the grip of her legs. She slowly, purposefully, slide down his body until her feet touch the floor and enjoyed the way Gendry seem to fall apart at the action.

Grabbing his hand Arya gave a mock salute to her siblings before pulling Gendry down the familiar hallways and up the stairs to her bedroom. The journey was quick, as Arya didn’t stop to taken in the changes, she’d have time for that later.

Yanking the large man into her room, Gendry stumbled past her as she locked the door. Turning back around she saw Gendry standing before her, his breathing rapid. Arya smirked.

Gendry ran a hand over his shaved head nervously. “You need to grow it out.”

“Huh?”

Arya stepped towards him, and suddenly felt like a lioness stalking her prey at the wild, unsure, and wary look in his eyes. She slipped her left hand under his arm and gripped his waist, she slid her other hand up his chest letting rest at the top of his shoulder, letting her fingers trace lightly on the part of his neck she could reach. She lifted her left leg and was glad for her flexibility as she lifted it high so her knee rest against his waist and her foot curled around his back, her heel resting just above his arse.

She felt his hand on the back of her thigh and bit back a grin, he didn’t seem to have realized he had moved, it was instinctual.

Slowly Arya tightened her grip and used her well toned muscle to pull herself up the length of his body. She brought her other hand to his left shoulder and finished climbing his torso, hooking her feet together around him. He gripped the back of her legs.

“You’re hair,” Arya brushed the side of his head, letting her hand come to rest at the base of his neck, “you need to grow it out.”

“Why?”

Arya grinned wickedly, “I want something to grab onto when I do this—“ Arya kissed him.

Gendry pulled away moments later. “Arya—“

“Gendry.”

“We—I.. I’m a bastard.”

“So is Jon. But I’m not kissing my bastard brother.”

“Arya—we can’t.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why not?” She rolled her hips and watched as he bit back a groan, “I know you want this. I want it too.”

Gendry pressed his forehead against her collarbone, “You’re a Lady—”

“And you’re a Ser.”

“Arya.” Gendry growled.

“What does it matter? I’m not going to marry some Lord for an alliance when I have everything I’ve ever wanted right here in this castle?”

“You deserve better,” He whispered, his breath ghosting over her neck.

Arya lifted his chin forcing him to look at her, “I don’t—“ she continued before he could object, “—and even if I did, what is better than my best friend?”

“I abandoned you—“

“Everyone makes mistakes.” The blue eyes searched hers and she saw the doubt, she saw the unworthiness that she’d felt growing up. “Gendry Waters, you will be making another mistake if you don’t kiss me.”

He was silent for a very long time and for all of her confidence and sureness, Arya felt herself waiver, she loosened her grip, “Do.. do you not want this?”

“What?! Yes—I mean no! I mean of course I want this!”

But despite her strength Gendry had always been one of the few people who could tear her down with his words and the seed of doubt had already been planted and she unhook her legs attempting to lower herself to the ground so she could escape. But Gendry’s fingers gripped her more tightly when she tried to unwrap her legs, “Never,” he said before pressing his mouth to hers.

Arya sighed into the kiss, pressing into him, her hands roaming over his shoulders, neck, and head.

Gendry walked her forwards and she felt the heavy wood door against her back, he pulled away just long enough, “Never doubt that I want you m’lady.”

“Show me,” Arya growled nipping at his neck.

“As m’lady commands.”


End file.
